I know the day on which I defended my dissertation, mostly because it was the day on which my one and only live-in boyfriend was born, and I defended on his birthday only a few short months after we split up.
In general, I suck with dates. I typically only remember important dates (unless they are actual holidays with a fixed date) with a 6-day or so window, with the exception of my birthday, my (biological) dad and mom’s anniversary (which let’s note was the day before St. Patrick’s Day, so that’s not exactly difficult to remember) and with the exception of a few other dates that happen to fall around other important dates (My first love’s birthday, A’s birthday, and my grade school best friend’s birthday all happen in a three-day span). Seriously: Ask BFF, or HS BFF, if I know their birthdays and they will tell you, “Dr. Crazy sucks with the thoughtful remembrance of dates. She’s great in a lot of other ways, but you can totally expect that she will call you on your actual birthday and not remember. And then she might send you a card or a present after you remind her, but only after that.” And let’s note that I have no idea when my mom and G’s wedding anniversary is other than that “it’s in October.” Luckily, neither of them cares about it at all.
Anyway, noting this anniversary made me realize I’d totally forgotten my blogiversary, which was something like end-of-July eight years ago, though I don’t actually care that I commemorate that anymore because clearly I am like Professor Binns in Harry Potter who goes on and on beyond the actual expiration date of human (or bloggy) life.
Here are the things that are awesome for me now, that were not awesome when I defended:
- I really think that I have good ideas. I don’t give a shit about how other people evaluate them.
- Even if my ideas suck? It doesn’t mean that I suck.
- What matters most in all of this is that I’m doing work that helps see new ideas, that realizes that it’s not about an answer but about a question.
- And regarding the question? What matters is that there are questions. Questions mean something. Questions mean more than answers.
So. I’m Dr. Crazy. And I wouldn’t be if I’d not gotten a job offer, defended a dissertation, been me. So there we are.